The Fine Print
by jathycia
Summary: Sarah Williams participates in Villestein University's Escort Vendue, confident she'll be bought by Bradley Richardson for the night. She is proven horribly wrong- but is 'horribly' really the appropriate term to describe her night with the mystery buyer?


_I began this with the intention of creating a short and smutty piece about Jareth 'owning' Sarah for a night and having the right to do as he pleases with her. I guess I got a little carried away though - please let me know if my waffling has paid off._

PLOT SUMMARY - Sarah Williams is pressured into participating in her university's annual Escort Vendue. Confident that she will be 'purchased' by heartthrob Bradley Richardson, Sarah has no doubts that she will have the night of her life. She is most certainly correct - though one tiny detail is false. I'm pretty sure you can guess who the mystery buyer is *creepy grin*. If this brief description has intrigued, then please, read on.

_I__ shall take this opportunity to mention the significance of referencing 'Within Temptation's' 'Memories'. The song struck a chord with me when I noticed numerous parallels between the lyrics and 'Labyrinth'. If you can be bothered, youtube it - if you agree/disagree with my claim, then please, let me know._

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**'The Fine Print'**

- Chapter 1 - Furtive conduct -

'Come on Sarah, it'll be fun! It isn't like there are any overly-fugly guys at our college, and you're the hottest girl at our campus! What are you afraid of?'

Madison Henley was pleading with Sarah Williams to participate in Villestein University's annual Escort Vendue. An invite-only event, male guests would bid upon female college graduates; the highest bidder would earn the right to 'escort' their woman for an entire night.

Sarah was reluctant. She didn't find the idea of parading up and down a catwalk in some skimpy outfit for prurient men appealing at all. She wouldn't even begin to consider what her night might be like if she were bought by a complete stranger, whose only interests were to abuse his rights to become intimate with her. But we're permitted the choose our own catwalk outfits, Sarah thought. And the venue's only accessible to people with invitations, so it's not as if random hobos will be able to participate.

Sarah looked down at Madison, who was in a begging position beside the bed. 'Pleeeeeaase?' Madison whined. 'I'm doing it! Go on Sarah, you'll be the only graduate too tight to get involved if you don't do it! Who knows, you might even get labelled frigid!'

Sarah grinned. It was very Madison, to point out the consequences of 'not getting involved' with something - or someone. 'Fine!' Sarah said dramatically. It was more of an announcement than a submission. 'Yesss!' Madison hissed, punching the air with her fist before jumping on Sarah to hug her. 'We're gonna have an awesome time tomorrow night - come dress shopping with me tomorrow afternoon?' She didn't even pause for an answer before '- Oh, and you have to sign up in the foyer of the assembly hall before lunchtime tomorrow so your sash can be made in time. I'm totally pumped now!' Sarah barely had time to nod before the pink and yellow blur that was Madison (in her hippo pyjamas) literally bounced out of Sarah's dorm and into her own next door.

***

Sarah woke, washed, dressed, ventured downstairs for breakfast, eavesdropped on the girls at the skanky table in the cafeteria (who were arguing about how much money they'd be worth at the auction that night) and headed to the foyer.

As she walked up the hallway towards the foyer doors, Bradley Richardson emerged with a grin on his face. His eyes sparkled mischievously as he approached Sarah; she knew immediately what he had done.

'You just signed me up for the auction tonight, didn't you?' she accused, trying to hide her smile. She enjoyed the thought of the college heartthrob going out of his way to ensure she was available for purchase. 'Maybe,' he smiled. 'And if I did, it was only because I knew you'd never sign yourself up for something so - what was it you said? 'Debilitating'? 'Raucous'? 'Peremptory'?' 'Well, actually, I was on my way to the foyer right now to sign up,' Sarah admitted. An odd display of shock and anticipation crossed Bradley's face. He seemed to struggle for words before asking 'What changed your mind?' 'I don't know - I guess I just figured, what the hell - everyone else is doing it. But mostly it was Madison who convinced me.' 'Remind me to send her flowers tomorrow morning when you wake up beside me' Bradley said with a devilish grin. Sarah blushed at his comment before murmuring an embarrassed 'goodbye then' and turning to walk away -

'Wait! You need this.' Bradley thrust a piece of paper into her hands (she shivered with excitement at their contact). 'It's the terms and conditions for the vendue.' Sarah nodded, and slid the note into her bag before giving Bradley a nervous wave goodbye and walking away as quickly as she could, and with her head lowered so no-one could see the excitement plastered blatantly across her face.

Her relationship with Bradley had only recently begun to flower; he hadn't gotten round to asking her out yet. She guessed the auction was his opportunity to jump straight to third base - an idea that Sarah was certainly not adverse to.

***

It was six o'clock. Sarah slid her new dress over her head and stepped in front of the mirror. Not bad for sixty dollars, she thought. The dress was a deep, emerald green, and embroidered with gold jewels that lined the plunging neckline. A halterneck, the dress exposed more cleavage than Sarah had expected - she hadn't had the time to try it on at the shop. It clung to her hips and flowed outwards to the knee - it would compliment the gold strappy heels she owned. She turned away from the mirror and looked over her shoulder. The dress was backless; the fabric at her lower back was gathered and sporting a gold brooch-like jewel. It really was a magnificent dress - Sarah wondered whether she'd gone overboard.

Just as the thought crossed her mind, Madison barged in - and gasped. 'Who are you and what have you done with Sarah?' she teased. Sarah grinned and took in her friend's outfit. It was a fluro-orange colour, clashing brilliantly with Madison's red hair. It too was a halterneck, but far shorter. The skirt split just past her hips and consisted of strips of fabric layered artistically to resemble ruffles. The dress was hardly decent; Sarah felt reassured that she wasn't overexposed in her low-cut backless gown.

Madison tottered over to Sarah in stilettos that she was obviously incapable of walking in and examined the dress close up. 'I told you it would suit you! You look stunning! And check out your boobs!' Madison gestured towards Sarah's chest with an obscene grabbing motion and Sarah blushed furiously. Madison laughed. 'Surely that doesn't offend you - you'll be getting much worse than just gestures tonight with that outfit.' Sarah looked briefly horrified at the notion of unprovoked male attention; Madison put her hand on Sarah's shoulder and they looked at their reflections in the mirror. 'But don't worry - there's absolutely no risk of you going home with anyone but Bradley Richardson. Did you know that he sold his car so he could be sure to win a certain someone tonight?' Sarah was stunned. 'He sold his Porsche?' 'No no, he sold his Bentleigh. He still has the Porsche.'

Silence.

Sarah didn't know how she should be feeling at such a gesture. Should she be thankful? Flattered? Angry that he'd sold a car to spend a night with her that could have been earned with friendship? Worried that he'd felt the need to have such a vast amount of money available? Had many other guys shown interest in bidding for her? Was that the reason? Sarah was unsure, but felt overwhelmed by the news that Bradley had done such a thing. Madison's hand tightened on her shoulder as she noticed Sarah's internal struggle. 'Come on Sarah, everything's gonna be fine. After tonight, you'll know for sure whether Bradley's cars were compensating for a shortage in another department..' Madison's voice trailed off suggestively and Sarah had to giggle. The girls smoothed the creases of their dresses before turning to finish preparations for the night ahead.

***

Sarah watched as Felicity Garrett disappeared into the wings, preparing to strut down the catwalk when her name was called by the 'auctioneer' (one of the female university lecturers). The past half hour had been routine; a graduate clothed indecorously would flounce into the wings, wait patiently until her name was called before prancing out onto the assembly hall stage to her selected song. She would then swagger down the catwalk, throw in a few signature moves or gestures, then stand and wait while bids are made for her. When the bids reach a sum no-one is prepared to challenge, the girl may leave the stage and be collected by her 'escort' at the conclusion of the evening.

It was an acknowledged courtesy for the girls to provide her escort with any services he might desire, for he had earned such a right by purchasing her. All proceeds from the evening would go towards university benefits for students to enjoy - pool tables, bars, DJ's for weekly discos, gym equipment - anything that might keep boarding students entertained.

Sarah and Madison exchanged nervous glances and excited grins as they heard cheers and catcalls over Britney Spears' 'Circus'. Felicity was obviously attracting more than enough male interest. The music quietened; the bids began. At first the shouts were undistinguishable; but eventually the whoops and wolfwhistles subsided and numbers could be heard. They began at fifty dollars and increased steadily, stopping only when a voice which sounded very much like Steven Millstein's shouted 'Five hundred!' Steven had had a crush on Felicity for as long as he had known her; Madison turned to Sarah and said 'Well, that's at least one person whose dreams will become reality tonight.' Sarah grinned, secretly hoping that her night turns out as well as Steven's will.

Madison picked up a running sheet and her eyes scanned the list of girls - 'Shit!' she cried - 'I'm next! Wish me luck Sarah!' - and without waiting for a response, Madison scrambled into the wings. Sure enough, 'Madison Henley' was announced over the loudspeaker, and the unmistakable beat of Rihanna's 'Pon de Reply' began to resound through the assembly hall.

Sarah adjusted her sash and shifted uncomfortably in her seat as she wondered what Madison was doing on the catwalk; she was receiving just as much interest from the crowd as Felicity had. Maybe she had fallen over - she could certainly be considered a safety hazard to passers-by in those stilettos.

Sarah began to consider what might happen as she steps out onto the stage. What if they play the wrong song, she thought. What if it's something really raunchy - what will the crowd expect? What if no-one bids for me? What if they boo me offstage? Sarah was suddenly stricken with panic. Was it too late to back out? Yes. Yes, it was - she was being ushered into the wings by a backstage attendant (another of her university lecturers).

Sarah stood nervously among the black curtains of the wings waiting for her name to be called. She was in a sort of daze; she couldn't quite contemplate what was happening. The abrupt 'Sold! To number 24' brought her back to Earth; Madison had just been bought. By who, Sarah couldn't tell - each of the potential male escorts had been given a number on a sign which they held up as they named their price. Suddenly, 'Sarah Williams' was amplified through the assembly hall; just her name prompted the biggest reaction from the crowd all evening - Sarah could barely hear Within Temptation's 'Memories' over the whistles, hollers, cheers and whoops.

She was taking too long to get onstage - someone behind her pushed her into the light. Sarah staggered, taken by surprise. She straightened her back and looked out into the sea of male faces - or what she could see of them, anyway; the lights were so bright she could barely see past the fifth row.

It was then that she noticed it. Of everything that could possibly have gone wrong, this was the worst. She would have been fine with the crowd screaming expletives describing her body at her, or even obscene chanting. Hell, she could even have coped with shoes being thrown at her, but she was completely unprepared for what was happening.

Nothing.

The assembly hall was completely still - not one person made a sound. No talking, no exchange of glances, no coughing, even. All that could be heard were the haunting lyrics of Sarah's favourite song, drifting gently around the hall.

_'The memories ease the pain inside; now I know why -'_

Sarah became aware of just how long she'd been standing motionless on the stage for when the eerily harmonic melody of the chorus began:

_'All of my memories keep you near, in silent moments, imagine you being here; all of my memories keep you near, in silent whispers, silent tears..'_

The pitch of the last note lingered in the air before the mass reverie shattered; someone in the crowd yelled out 'Five hundred dollars!'

Sarah's mind slowly began to function normally once again as the noise coming from her potential buyers rose dramatically - the men were shouting over one another to have their bids heard. She was slightly shaken by the overwhelming interest she was receiving; she hadn't even walked down the catwalk yet. And while their confronting silence had seemed spectacularly dramatic to begin with, Sarah seemed oddly at ease - she was comforted knowing that no matter how badly she was desired by those men in the crowd, Bradley was sure to prevail; after all, he was the only man she knew who considered her to be of more worth than a Bentleigh.

The bids were rising ever higher. 'Seven hundred and thirty-five dollars!' a balding man sitting in the second row called out. Sarah felt a rush of gratitude when she heard Bradley's voice: 'Seven-hundred and forty dollars!' He seemed to be upping his bid by only a little each time - a wise move, Sarah thought; this way, he makes sure he saves as much of his money as he can while still staying on top of the other bids.

Almost a minute passed. The bids approached the thousand mark and Sarah was beginning to worry. Was her relationship with Bradley strong enough to pull through this auction? Apparently so. Bradley announced 'One thousand, five hundred dollars!' and was acknowledged with gasps and muttered obsceneties as other men realised they couldn't afford to increase the offer.

There was a brief void of speech before the loudspeaker declared 'One thousand, five hundred dollars, bid by number 13. Wow, this doubles the previous Escort Vendue record.'

The song was coming to an end. Sarah squinted and peered through the lights, hoping to catch a glimpse of Bradley. Yes, there he was, with a triumphant grin on his face. A warm feeling spread through her body as she realised what this meant. She belonged to Bradley for an entire night - she couldn't wait for him to collect her at the end of the evening.

Sarah couldn't help but grin as the auctioneer asked 'Are there any final bids? No? Going...'

Sarah could see Bradley writhing in his seat; he was obviously as eager for this evening to end as she was.

'Going...'

The last chord of 'Memories' reverberated through the assembly hall as the auctioneer inhaled to end the bidding for Sarah, when-

'Five thousand dollars.'

...The silence this time was far more theatrical than it had been before, as the music had ceased completely. No-one gasped, no-one spoke; it was as if everyone had stopped breathing. The men occupying the first few rows of seats turned to face the rear of the hall, hoping to identify who the voice belonged to. Whoever he was, he was sitting at the very back of the seating section, concealed in shadows, and Sarah could not even see out through the blinding spotlight.

Her heart had all but stopped. It was strange, how much emotion could be provoked with just three simple words, yet the tone in which they had been spoken stirred something inside her. The low, slightly melodious delivery of those few words had made Sarah's breath catch in her throat; she did not inhale again until she heard Bradley retaliate indignantly with 'Five thousand and fifty dollars!'

Without hesitation, the deep, rich voice spoke again. Sarah strained to hear the gentle vox over the whispers of the crowd, but made out 'Ten thousand dollars'.

Sarah was aghast; was this some sort of sick joke? Surely no stranger would be willing to spend ten thousand dollars for a night with a woman he had never met? Maybe Bradley organised this, Sarah thought, desperate for a logical explanation. That must be it; Bradley had arranged for someone else to bid against him, so he could pay a ridiculous sum for her. Perhaps he considered it a romantic gesture. Sarah frowned - she hardly considered what was going on 'romantic'; it was torment.

While the whispers of the crowd intensified in volume, Sarah subconsciously recited the stranger's phonation in her head; the voice had been eerily calm, and his words had been spoken with a cadence which suggested whoever they had come from was smiling. This contrasted with Bradley's sudden outcry of 'Eleven thousand dollars!'

Sarah noted that a one-thousand dollar increase in the bidding was very unlike Bradley; he must be desperate to end this numeric feud with the stranger and take ownership of Sarah for the night.

It was not to be. Once again, the words of the masculine stranger came swiftly and distinctly.

'Fifty thousand dollars.'

*

Sarah stepped out through the backstage exit and into the rain. It was nine o'clock and her fellow graduates were leaving with their escorts, giggling excitedly as they struggled to squeeze under a shared umbrella. Sarah moved deliberately out from under the shelter of the building; she had decided to make tonight as unpleasant for her escort as she possibly could, even if this meant ruining her new dress in the rain.

Sarah had not seen Bradley since she left the stage. She wondered what he was doing. Had he driven home to spend the night alone? Had he retired to the pub for a night of intoxication to numb the pain of losing her to a stranger? Sarah pulled her mobile phone from her bag before glancing round the carpark for her escort. It was so busy; she doubted he'd be able to get in. She watched as her friends' escorts struggled to reverse their vehicles successfully out of their spaces. Sarah spotted Felicity Garrett in Steven's Ford; they were already engaging intimately with one another.

This was certainly not how Sarah had imagined her night. She flipped open her phone and dialled Bradley's number. It rang twice and stopped. Maybe he'd run out of battery.

When she looked up again she was stunned. A stretched limousine was parked alongside the kerb, creating an effective roadblock for the line of impatient teenage drivers queueing behind it. They were beeping at the sleek black vehicle, attempting in vain to threaten its driver into moving. Sarah wondered why no-one had entered it yet. She noticed one of the front compartment windows was winding down, though she couldn't see who was behind it because, apparently, the interior lights were off.

Sarah was taken aback when she heard a measured voice coming from inside the limousine.

'Get in.'

She stood motionless momentarily, contemplating what was happening. Initially, she was shocked and somewhat intrigued by the fact that whoever was inside this limousine must be the man who'd bought her at the auction. Her faint anticipation turned to distaste as she considered the possibility that this man, apparently of immense wealth, spent a hefty sum on female playthings on a regular basis. She was also confronted by his abrupt demand - he had not even had the decency to emerge from his hiding place to introduce himself.

Sarah frowned. However horrible this man was going to be, she was determined to endure this night. She made a beeline for the rear door.

Sarah tugged at the handle and climbed inside out of the rain. The door swung shut of its own accord and the faint sound of a central locking system made her realise that it was too late to change her mind.

The chauffeur put his foot down suddenly; the car accelerated and she was thrown backwards onto the seats.

Sarah was vaguely aware that the lights were still off; the windows were tinted to such an extreme that the limousine's interior was in complete darkness. She knew he was in the car with her even if she couldn't see him; she could feel his presence. She was struck with a sudden feeling of unease, as though he could see her through the blackness. Not that that was physically possible. Sarah attempted to dismiss this thought and cleared her throat nervously. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, aware of the icy water that was dripping from her clothing and hair and onto the seats, pooling underneath her.

Sarah crossed her legs and arms in a feeble attempt to stay warm. She shivered.

A knocking came from the front of the vehicle; Sarah's head instinctively turned towards the sound. A quiet buzzing followed; the electronically-automated divide between the chauffeur's compartment and the passengers' was being wound down.

Sarah could see the silhouette of the chauffeur against the outside streetlights; they were snapping past unnervingly quickly - they must be travelling at quite a speed.

She noticed the driver's head turn slightly to the left, as if trying to hear something. She realised that the man in the passenger compartment with her must be saying something to him. Sarah concluded that if this be the case, he must be sitting about five metres from her, and slightly to the left.

The driver nodded briefly, and the automatic divide wound up, once again plunging the passenger compartment into darkness.

A few seconds later, a deep humming sound reverberated through the limousine and Sarah felt warm air on her face. It seemed her escort had requested the central heating be turned on.

She considered this gesture an acknowledgement of her presence; she shifted in her seat once more before muttering 'thanks'.

In sudden response, the compartment was suddenly illuminated by white neon lights that lined the seats and ceiling.

Sarah squinted as her eyes adjusted to the unexpected brightness; she could see the outline of a lean figure sitting with one leg thrown casually over the other in the place she'd assumed he would be; about five metres in front and slightly to the left of where she was seated.

Several things then happened simultaneously.

Her blurred vision cleared.

Her jaw dropped and her heartbeat all but stopped before quickening to pound inside her chest.

She couldn't think straight. She knew who he was, but seemed unable to even think his name.

Sarah took in his splendour all at once. In fact, splendour didn't even begin to cover his magnificence.

Her eyes travelled slowly his form; she'd never seen him in this particular clothing before.

His boots were black, shiny, knee-high and square-heeled.

She didn't like to think of him wearing 'tights' or 'leggings' - they were such feminine labels, and he encompassed anything and everything masculine. She preferred to consider his slender legs clothed tightly with a material she couldn't identify; some strange blend of leather and lycra that would have looked wrong on anyone but him.

His shirt was crimson. It's cut was sharp and angular, and the collar extended below his neckline to the centre of his torso, revealing the unflawed and musclular lineage of his chest.

Framed by the neckline of his shirt was something that was twinkling brightly at her, though she couldn't identify it from where she was sitting.

Her eyes then met his.

Sarah's world seemed to collapse there and then; she couldn't order her thoughts.

Time stood still, and she couldn't remember why she was there.

All that mattered was that she was in a limousine, on her way to god knows where, seated directly opposite The Goblin King of the Underground.

***

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***

The following has to be said. Let's think of it as a critique of my own writing - or an explanation of decisions. Firstly, I know the 'fifty thousand dollars' thing is a bit extreme, but hey, it's fantasy - anything can happen. And I'd like to think that's just a small percentage of what Jareth believes Sarah is worth. Secondly, how Jareth came to receive an invitation to the vendue will be explained in the next chapter, as will the description of his physical attributes (I deliberately skipped over depicting anything other than his clothing because I know how much I hate long descriptions - I prefer to find details incorporated inbetween verses of dialogue).

Chapter 2 will be up when:

a. I've written it.

b. I've had a few reviews; there's nothing a budding author appreciates more than feedback and advice.

I was reluctant to submit anything at all, not knowing whether Labyrinth fanfics are still as popular as they were back in '07. So please, prove me wrong.


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